


Stranger Things

by Zelda Ophelia (ZeldaOphelia)



Category: Early Edition, Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Community: crossovers100, Crime, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-17
Updated: 2005-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeldaOphelia/pseuds/Zelda%20Ophelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you can't help strangers, who can you help?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger Things

It wasn't the saloon, which they considered to be their saloon, but as far as JD was concerned it'd pass for tonight. Chicago wasn't their town, but the atmosphere at this place was friendly enough for them and the clientele was primarily law enforcement. Tonight, at least. Prolly had a bit to do with the coupons in their conference packets, he thought to himself as he tried to push through the crowd at the bar. He was sure he recognized a few of the faces around the place from the earlier seminars.

He finally reached the bar, pulling his wallet - and his ID, thanks to too much experience at being carded - out as he gave his order. "Three stouts, two wheats, a whiskey and a-" he paused, squinting at the paper Ezra'd given him- "a dry martini with onion, no olives and an extra splash of vermouth."

The bartender - a waitress had called him Gary, JD thought - raised an eyebrow. "Your turn to buy the round?"

JD nodded, giving him a sheepish look. "Lost a bet on what time the thing'd be over."

"The thing? You're at that law enforcement conference down at the convention center?" Gary placed the first glass of stout up on the counter as he asked.

"Yeah," he paused before reaching out his hand. "I'm JD, I'm with the ATF, a team out of Denver."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Gary," the bartender reached across as he filled another glass and shook his hand. "How're you liking Chicago so far?"

"Better'n Denver, we missed a huge snowstorm coming out here. Hopefully by the time we get back things'll be cleared out. But there should still be good snowboarding." He waved over at one of the tables as a third full glass was placed in front of him. A tall guy with dark hair and a mustache joined them long enough to tousle JD's hair and grab the stouts.

"You're welcome, Buck!" JD called at his retreating form. Gary watched as the big guy joined a table with five others, the older man sitting there waving in their direction.

"Ungrateful ingrates," JD joked as he turned back to the bar. "Geez, an' now Ezra's rubbing off on me."

Gary just laughed, passing the first wheat over. "This one yours?"

"How'd you know?"

"I like to observe people," Gary shrugged, continuing, "you passed up on the stouts, definitely not the one getting the martini and just don't seem the type for whiskey."

Shaking his head, JD took a drink before replying. "Nah, that last one'd be my boss, Chris."

"Chris...." Gary looked sharply at him before turning back to the drink he was mixing. "Chris Larabee?"

"Yeah, you heard of him?"

Grinning, Gary put the last of the drinks on the bar in front of him. "You can't work in a bar with this many cops to without hearing of him."

Nodding, JD thanked him and paid for the drinks, a smartly dressed man appearing to rescue the martini and whiskey from his planned balancing act as he waited for his change. Tucking it into the tip jar, he nodded at Gary, "Thanks and nice talking with you."

* * *

"Hey, Gare," Chuck nodded in the direction of the table of ATF agents as he joined Gary at the bar, "who's the kid you were chatting with earlier?" He paused, looking in the direction of the table. "And is he even old enough to be in here? You do realize we're filled with cops tonight, the last thing we need is to be serving to minors."

"He's an ATF agent from Denver and yes, I checked his ID." Gary gave him an exasperated look, glancing in the table's direction as well. So far, since his conversation with JD, four more of the six other men had made their way up to buy a round. Each of them had been friendly, though not near as talkative as JD. And each had confirmed that Chris Larabee was, indeed, their boss. Gary pulled the paper from his pocket, reading the headline again.

"You seemed awfully friendly considering he's never been here before. A line as long as that earlier didn't need you taking so long to get his drinks."

"Chuck, I think he's my next 'client', or at least one of them is." Gary handed him the paper while motioning at the table of ATF agents, noting that the bar was beginning to clear out. And more importantly, that the ATF agents were all standing and pulling on their coats.

**ATF agent killed while attending conference, gunman shot and killed on scene**  
Several agents wounded while returning to hotel, team leader Chris Larabee thought intended target

"While returning to their hotel, you mean after they left here?"

"That's what the paper says. Can you take over the bar?" Gary watched as the seven men walked out the door, the one with the mustache, Buck he vaguely remembered was his name, holding it open for a couple of young women leaving as well.

"What?" Chuck looked up at Gary, then at the throng of people waiting for their drink orders to be filled. "Are you crazy?"

"Chuck, they just left. Which means they're about to be ambushed. So stay and watch the bar." Gary was pulling on his coat, trying to wave Chuck off and get out the door before the agents got too far ahead of him.

"But Gary..." Chuck rolled his eyes and muttered as Gary disappeared out the back door. "Always having to run off and save the world."

* * *

It wasn't hard for Gary to find them. The convention center was in walking distance, the big reason for the huge crowd at the bar - walking distance meant no having to worry about designated drivers, though come morning a few would probably be wishing they'd made arrangements for designated walkers. That cop from Miami had to be hurting after walking into the fire hydrant. Had he not been in a hurry he might have been more amused by the sight of a drunken cop carrying on about the 'family jewels', but tonight he just wanted the guy and his friends to get out of his way so he could catch up to the ATF agents.

Gary kept to the shadows best he could, trying to keep an eye out for the gunman. He had just caught up with them, a few feet behind the long haired guy talking (drunken) philosophy with the older man who'd nodded at the bar earlier, when he thought he saw a flash, a reflection of light off of something in the shadows across the street.

JD was up talking with Larabee up at the front of the group, between the older agent and the shooter now moving in their direction, waving his arms animatedly as he tried to explain something having to do with computers and equipment and... video games? He wasn't quite certain, but he really was paying more attention to keeping his eye on the supposed shooter and catching up with the two talking agents.

"Excuse me, pardon me." He pushed past the two agents he was following, past the smartly dressed agent from earlier, ignoring the 'Hey!' he got, catching up with JD and Larabee just as the shooter raised a gun. Not stopping to think twice, he shoved against them as hard as he could, forcing them to the ground as a popping noise sounded overhead. It was quickly followed by different, louder, closer noises of return fire and it was practically all over by the time Gary rolled away from the two agents and to his feet. He was closest to JD, "You okay?"

"Yeah," JD had a slightly dazed look about him and blood trickling down from a wound on his forehead, turning from the scene across the street to look at him. "Thanks, man. G-Gary?" He gave Gary a confused look, blinking a few times as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing.

"Anytime." Gary stood and, seeing his chance, backed away as JD turned back to his friends, moving into the shadows and on his way back to the bar, checking the paper one last time.

**Shooter killed ambushing ATF agents at conference, no other casualties**

Not bad for a day's, well evening's work.

* * *

"JD!" Buck helped his roommate to his feet. "Are you okay? What happened? Where'd that guy go?"

"Guy? You mean Gary?" JD asked, looking back behind him to where Gary had been standing, now an empty space. "He was just there."

"Gary?" The rest of the team had surrounded him and Chris, pack instinct of protecting their own kicking in, with Chris and Vin glaring at anyone who looked at them twice. Nathan was checking out the growing welt on JD's head, trying to convince him he needed to go to the emergency room. "Who's Gary?"

"The guy from the bar, the bartender, he's the one who pushed Chris and me down."

Buck and Josiah glanced at each other, subtly sharing a 'the poor kid hit his head and just isn't right in the head yet' look, then Buck turned back to JD. "The bartender is probably still at the bar JD. Why would he be down here when that place was still full when we left?"

"Buck, it was him, I know it was." JD whined softly, getting the slightly petulant look he got when the guys didn't believe him about something. "We were talking back at the bar."

"Why would he be here?" Buck repeated softly, and then continued trying to convince JD, "How would he have even known? We're just a bunch of strangers who stopped at the bar where he works."

It was Josiah, behind them, who softly weighed in then. "If you can't help strangers, then who can you help?"


End file.
